Saw 9: The Enigmatic Battle
by 12HockeyChick21
Summary: This is my take on how I believe Saw 9/Jigsaw 2 should happen. What if Hoffman somehow had escaped his imprisonment in the bathroom and continued on with his work? Two separate Jigsaw factions with different spins on John Kramer's ideals go head to head to see who will emerge victorious, the real Jigsaw Heirs.
1. Chapter 1

Silence.

Darkness.

Heat.

Dampness.

Then, out of the stillness, there broke quite obvious sounds of a struggle. Not a struggle between people, but the struggle of desperation from a lone man whose strength had been slowly chipped away into nothingness. This man, once so highly esteemed and respected by his peers, now seemed to be nothing more than a husk of his former self. For this man's teacher, his mentor... had turned his back on him.

Or perhaps it was _he_ who had turned his back on his teacher.

His mentor's final wish had now been granted by much more proper students, those who had learned from his games. This hollow shell of a human had not learned his lesson and to him, it seemed he would not be getting another chance... Not this time.

In the beginning, he had been full of fire, an angry passion that seeped from every pore, fighting to be free. He had thrashed, he had clawed, he had shaken, yanked, smashed, banged, torn, thrown, and cursed. He had cursed everything, every name that ever brushed over his tongue, every plane of existence he had ever crossed, every life he had watched falter at his own hand.

He had tried everything... and yet...

Every possible effort he had made to escape this imprisonment had been to no avail. He wanted to scream, but his throat was raw from the countless hours, even days of that, attempts which he already knew were fruitless. With nothing but two corpses to keep him company in this hellhole, he had resigned himself to his failure. How had he fallen so far?

It was game over.

And yet, after days of nothingness, or what was most likely days seeing as the man really had no way of telling the time, a noise came. A sound! Glorious relief from the insanity inducing silence. The man's relief dissipated as quickly as it had come on once he realized that this noise meant someone was coming. Before he was even able to react, the door to his dark prison creaked open and a stream of light entered, followed by footsteps. The man, in no shape to fight, instinctively pushed himself as far back into the corner as possible. The new visitor was revealed in the dim light to be adorned with an all too familiar pig mask.

"No..." his voice was unrecognizable to himself, cracking from the sudden usage after it's time of silence. He forced himself to be louder, "No, no! Get back! Fuck you!"

Though the words were malicious and threatening, the delivery was weak and unfulfilling.

"Show yourself," he tried once more, finally generating some air out of his lungs, "COWARD!"

But a hand clapped over his mouth ending his reign of insults. He tasted the leather of a glove as the owner of said hand finally spoke.

"Hoffman, Jesus Christ! Shut up!" Came a familiar, young voice, not like that of his captors.

"Kid Matthews?!" The one called Hoffman croaked in awe. The pig man released him and removed the mask to reveal a mop of dusty colored curls and dark eyes. Eyes that had seen far too much in their almost two decades of existence. The emotion behind them was long gone.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here to get you out of this place and quick." He produced a pair of metal cutting shears from his robe and hurriedly used them on the other's ankle chain. The sound of metal snapping reverberated throughout the old bathroom around them, making Hoffman flinch at the sudden and aggressive new sound.

"Now come on! Quickly! Before they catch us!" The younger hissed, hauling Hoffman to unsteady feet. The weaker of the two fumbled at this movement.

"How did you-" Hoffman coughed and the other cut him off.

"I'll explain later, move!" Despite his attempts to sound serious, the dark eyed one's young voice cracked with fear. Scared or not, he knew where he was going and what he had to avoid. For he had been here before. And this place held terrifying memories, memories he did not wish to face. This was a place that had heard his name echo off of it's dingy walls more times than one could count.

And Hoffman knew all of this.

Daniel Matthews... a boy that was just barely an adult, had just saved his life.

Daniel Matthews, a survivor of one of the original Jigsaw himself's own games.

Daniel Matthews, son of one of Hoffman's old friend and coworkers, Eric Matthews.

And Daniel had no idea that Mark Hoffman was the reason for his father's demise.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ten years later...**_

The scene opens and we see a much older looking, fully matured Daniel Matthews sitting at a table. He is alternating between shuffling through papers on the table, eating a bowl of cereal, and watching a news segment on a small TV. He pauses on a piece of paper, the changing of the camera angle from his face to looking down over his shoulder reveals the picture to be a young adult male's mug shot. Daniel sighs and tosses the picture down before his eyes return to the TV. Something intrigues him enough to go searching for the remote somewhere underneath the mess of papers to turn up the TV's volume. He manages to find it and clicks the button vigorously until the TV is at an audible volume.

"Another victim of the Jigsaw killer has been discovered. Late last night, county police were called to a factory that had been abandoned many years ago and has been scheduled for demolition. Several teenagers, whose parents have requested remain unnamed, had been exploring the area when they discovered the body, mutilated beyond recognition. Forensics specialists will be using dental records to attempt to identify the victim, but for now, police say any other information is to remain out of the public eye."

"That's not one of ours..." Daniel muttered to himself, running a hand through his dusty colored curls.

"Hoffman!"

His older partner appeared with a toothbrush in his mouth and only a towel wrapped around the lower half of his body, still wet from a shower.

"What, kid? I've told you a thousand fucking times, call me Mark." He tried to say, muffled by a mouthful of toothpaste. He walked over to spit in the sink and turned back to his younger counterpart.

"And I've told you a thousand fucking times, call me Daniel, but you don't listen either." Daniel teased, then got serious, jabbing a thumb at the TV once Hoffman had looked back to him.

"Now be straight with me, you do some picking behind my back?" Daniel questioned. Hoffman glared and thrusted his toothbrush in the other's direction.

"Do you really I would go behind your back after everything?"

"Well... if it wasn't you, then that means _he's_ back." Daniel dragged a hand down his face tiredly.

"Why would that jackass still be at it? I thought he was done after he _avenged Jill_ by trying to lock me up with only his severed foot and those shit smelling corpses." Hoffman whined the "avenged Jill" part dramatically, setting his toothbrush down and replacing it with a mug to fill with coffee.

"That's disgusting dude." Daniel made a face at the toothbrush on the kitchen counter, then rolled his eyes. "Look, I get that you're still pissy, but John had a right to make sure Jill was protected, or at least avenged. And you kind of... killed her."

"Bitch tried to kill me!" Hoffman growled, causing Daniel to put up a hand.

"Anyway, if he trusted Lawrence, that's his own decision... but we need to figure out why Lawrence is continuing on."

"Unless there's someone else we don't know about." Hoffman offered after a swig of black coffee. Daniel rose an eyebrow.

"That can't be likely... can it?"

Hoffman shrugged, gargling some coffee and turning to spit it into the sink. Daniel flinched in disgust and shook his head.

"Who the hell knows anymore." Hoffman grunted.

"What I want to know is how the hell I have managed to live with you for this long... no wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

"Fuck off, I don't see you bringing anyone back here, kiddo." Hoffman held up a middle finger as he made his way back down the hallway without looking back.

"I think we should confront Dr. Gordon!" Daniel called after him.

"Why would we ever fucking do that?" Hoffman yelled back.

"Because if this isn't him, maybe he'd know who it is."

"What are we gonna do? Just go to his fucking office and ask him politely?"

"Yeah?"

"Hell fucking no, sorry kid. I am not doing that. Not in a million years. No." Hoffman came back out, pulling a shirt over his head.

"Then what do you suggest, oh wise one? We can't keep any of this up if someone else is out there trying to copycat!" Daniel flung his chair back, swirling around to face Hoffman with obvious body language of anger.

"Can I just interject here and ask again, why you want to be a part of continuing on John's work? He trapped you in a game with a bunch of horrible people just to try and teach your father a lesson, which by the way... he failed. That caused Amanda to-" Daniel cut him off.

"I don't need a recap, I know what the fuck he did!" Daniel hand flung out in a flash, swiping papers from the table angrily. Hoffman stepped back slightly and Daniel continued at this sign of submission. "I loved my father, but he was a pretty shitty cop near the end of it. You should be able to agree with me, you worked with him, man. And I get that I was a shitty kid and that my mom was a shitty wife and that their marriage was shitty and his life was shitty and everything was just shitty! But what John did made me realize all of this and that I needed to be grateful for my life anyway and change my ways. If I had continued on that path I was on, I was gonna end up just like my dad, hell, probably worse! A shitty life with an even shittier outlook than I have now! And if I can somehow make more people see through their stupid veils of thinking and rip of those god damned horse blinders that everyone in the world seems to be wearing, then maybe, just maybe I could give back and get them to give back! If my dad had just taken one minute to look anywhere else but straight ahead, maybe he would have survived! The stupid fucking asshole!" Suddenly, the cereal bowl was in pieces on the floor. Daniel realizes he had flung it in his rage and took a tight grip on his hair.

"Oh fuck..."

"Well. You've definitely got your father's temper..." Hoffman crept forward slightly with outstretched arms. Daniel collapsed to his knees, shaking his head.

"No, no, no... I can't. I can't be like him. I have to keep doing good."

"Daniel... it's all right. You just need to learn ways to control your anger. I understand having anger... and nothing you do will ever take it away. But like John taught me, to help those in need, it has to come from a place of apathy, not a place of resentment or contempt or vengeance." Hoffman put one of his large hands on the smaller man's back, causing Daniel looked up at him, tears in his tired, dark eyes.

"But I don't understand... wasn't John's first victim the man who killed his and Jill's son?"

"Yes... But- well..." Hoffman paused, "I'm not sure what caused John's change of heart, but he said during a game of his, something in him changed. He decided he had to remain apathetic. It was something he never went fully in depth in explaining to me..."

"Do- do you think he felt bad for putting someone in a game?" Daniel asked, causing another shrug from Hoffman.

"I don't know... John was always a man of few words, at least to me. Perhaps Amanda knew more, but that died with her when she failed her final test." Hoffman's eyes gained a distant look for a moment, but he shook his head slightly.

"She was weak. She let emotions get in the way of her judgement. John wanted her to succeed so much, but she had a secret he didn't know. I threatened to reveal it if she didn't do as I asked."

"Did... you kill Amanda?" Daniel asked weakly. Hoffman locked eyes with him and Daniel tried searching for any sign of emotion, but Hoffman had long practiced the art of keeping those hidden. Finally, Hoffman helped Daniel stand.

"No. We don't kill, remember? We give... a choice. They make their choice themselves. Remember that Daniel, you are not a murderer."

It was Daniel's turn for his eyes to gain the foggy, distant look of a memory.

"You're wrong... I am a murderer."


	3. Chapter 3

The scene opens with a barrage of dark and fast moving images accompanied by screams from a scared female. We are seeing out the eyes of someone else.

"Run! Run!!"

Dark hallway, the back of a short haired brunette's head. She is clinging to the hand of whoever's eyes we are seeing out of.

"Hey kid! Amanda!" An eerie voice echoed seemingly all around.

Then there is a familiar image... the burning artificial lights flicking on inside the old, decrepit bathroom. A large man is hobbling down the dark hall, following the two with knife in hand.

Back in the bathroom, the eyes turn to the floor, seeing a rusted hacksaw. Shaky hands pick it up. A young, scared voice comes from the owner of those shaky hands.

"Pretend I'm dead, Amanda... I h-have an idea."

Darkness follows, then the next imagery is a hacksaw slicing into the neck of a muscular, terrifying looking man. Blood gushed from the gash as the man stumbles forward, grasping at his killer's shirt. Amanda's screams are all that can be heard as the man stumbles backwards and falls, dying.

Daniel gasps awake, shadows of night falling across his face. He is in a cold sweat and panting, throwing is covers off.

"Fuck..."

Daniel's door opened a crack, causing light to slowly illuminate the room.

"Kid... are you okay?" Hoffman stood in the doorway, rubbing a tired eye. Daniel tried to calm his ragged breathing.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a fucking nightmare." He told the older man. Hoffman nodded, yawning in to a fist.

"Well... uh, you... you wanna talk about it?" He asked. Daniel could tell that he was uncomfortable. Hoffman had never been the best with empathy so Daniel just shook his head.

"Nah man, it's fine. I'm just going to try and get more sleep." Daniel told him. The older simply nodded and turned to leave.

"Okay... well I'm going to do that too."

Once Hoffman was gone, Daniel got up from his bed. Though he had told his companion that he was going to return to sleep, Daniel didn't feel like he could just yet. The younger pushed his door open and went to the bathroom.

After splashing some water on his face, Daniel looked into the mirror. The dark, tired eyes looking back at him were all that he remembered. It had been over a decade since the pivotal, life changing moment that was his Jigsaw game and he had never been the same. After his freedom and then the loss of his father... Daniel knew he had to change.

"I was just a stupid teenager..." Daniel breathed out exasperatedly, dragging his hands down his face. He sighed after one more glance at his matured face and shuffled out to the kitchen. He stubbed his toe on something in the dark, cursing quietly as to try not to disturb Hoffman again. Daniel opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the half gallon of milk, then used the light from the fridge to grab a glass from the one of the cupboards before closing it back up. He poured himself some before putting the carton back and then stood there deep in thought. He hadn't dreamed of that day in years... why now?

He thought back to the hauntingly familiar eyes from the mugshot he has looked at the morning prior, then remembered his dream... Xavier, the man he had killed. Those eyes... they belonged to Xavier. Was the man in the mugshot related to the man he had murdered to save his own life? Hoffman has just handed him a file with pictures of a few possible people they could test. Did Hoffman know who the mugshot man was? Where has he received the pictures from?

All these questions and more circled through Daniel's brain and he felt now more than ever that he could not go back to sleep. So, after finishing his milk and rinsing the glass, Daniel went back to his room and found his shoes and his coat. Then, he crept silently across the hall and into Hoffman's room. His older companion's snores signaled that he had fallen back into a deep slumber, so Daniel sneakily snagged the keys from his bedside table and crept back out.

"Sorry Hoffman... I'll deal with your anger later." Daniel whispered, more to himself as he hurried out the door.

He unlocked Hoffman's car and pulled the GPS navigator off of the windshield so he could check Hoffman's most frequented stops. Daniel paused for a moment. Was this betrayal? He shrugged and continued.

"Where have you been going?" Daniel asked aloud, confusion prevalent in his voice as he scanned through the list of addresses. One address that was unknown to Daniel kept appearing throughout the list.

"I guess we'll just have to see for ourselves, won't we?" Daniel stuck the GPS back in its place before setting the address in question as his destination and turning the car on.

A twenty-five minute drive later, Daniel was pulling up to a somewhat rundown looking house, driveway empty. Daniel parked down the street and walked towards the home, hoping no one was awake at this hour to spot him and know he was out of place. As he approached the home, he saw a kid's tricycle in the front yard.

"And yet... no one's home?" He murmured to himself. There was no garage, so there was nowhere for a car to be hiding. Would he dare? He checked his pockets and found that he did have a pair of gloves and his lockpick in his coat. Fate had made the decision for him.

After a few moments, Daniel got the door open and used his phone as a flashlight to look around the home. Pictures of a little girl, maybe about four littered the walls. Shit... Hoffman didn't have a child out of wedlock, did he?

Daniel went into the kitchen and saw a photograph of a man with dark eyes and dark hair holding the girl from the previous photos, both smiling. Though Daniel could see beyond the man's smile and into the storm behind those eyes. He moved a bit closer to examine the photo deeper, slightly more confused than before. That man wasn't Hoffman... Daniel had never seen that man in his life. Then why did those eyes call out to him in a way?

Suddenly, Daniel felt something jab into his back and he stiffened as a gruff voice sounded from behind him.

"Move and I blow your spine out through your stomach."

Daniel raised his gloved hands in surrender and a light flashed on. Daniel swallowed nervously, unsure of what to do or say.

"Turn around, slowly..." The gruff voice ordered. Daniel complied and found himself standing face to face with a slightly more unkempt version of the man from the photo. The man may have been sporting a scraggly beard and slightly longer hair but the eyes were just the same.

"Now, who the hell are you and what are do you think you're doing breaking into my home?" The man asked, motioning the shotgun in his hand at Daniel. He took this as his cue to speak. But what would he say?? Having a gun pointed at him, there was really no other option than the truth.

"I... I'm sorry. I'm a, uh, a friend of Mark Hoffman's. I found your address in his GPS and just-" The man cut Daniel off.

"Just thought: 'Hm, why not break in?' huh?" The man paused for a moment, slightly lowering the shotgun. "Mark Hoffman... you're friends with Mark Hoffman? I didn't think he had any friends."

"My name is Daniel Matthews, Hoffman worked with my father before he died... so now we work together. But what does Hoffman want with you? Who are you?"

"Ballsy guy to be the one asking questions when you're the one that broke into my house." The guy growled. Daniel kept his hands in front of him.

"I know, I know... but, ah... cute kid." He said, honestly unable to think of anything else at the moment. The man sighed and lower his shotgun the rest of the way, glancing at the photo.

"Yeah. She's with her mother right now. Bitch took everything from me and now I can't even keep my daughter full time. She's the only thing that makes me get out of bed in the morning anymore man..."

Daniel felt a pang of sympathy for the man and found himself stepping forward towards him. This only resulted in the man raising his gun again.

"I didn't say you could move."

Daniel's hands went up again but his eyes drifted to the man's kitchen table, similar to his as it was littered with countless photos as well. One stuck out to Daniel. It was a picture of that mugshot man, but he was out wandering the streets instead. The shot looked to be from a distance and unknowingly taken.

"Where did you get that picture?" Daniel asked. The man followed his gaze and snorted, annoyed.

"You gotta be a bit more specific than that. But to answer your umbrella question with an umbrella answer, I took them. A friend of my father's gave me a camera for my birthday years and years ago back when I was a kid and now it's all I like to do, besides my shitty minimum wage job. I take pics and sell them on the side. Usually they're just artistic shots, but your friend Hoffman hires me to pretty much stalk people and get pictures of them for him. I'm surprised if you two work together that he hasn't told you about me. The name's Brent Abbott."

When he said this, alarm bells went off in Daniel's head.

"Brent Abbott... where have I heard that name before? Oh my God, are you the kid from Hoffman's William Easton trap? The insurance guy! You're the kid who pulled the lever on William's death!" Daniel exclaimed.

"Ding ding... bastard killed my father and Lord knows how many others... he deserved to die. So if Hoffman does this to people who deserve it, I am more than willing to help him find proper candidates. Don't judge me, you know what the guy does so you must not be all sunshine and rainbows either." Brent said.

"Well... no. I was a part of one of the original Jigsaw's games. And then my father was tested. He died because he lost his game and was locked up to become a part of someone else's game, who lost... Hoffman let the man that killed my father die, so I guess I sort of feel indebted to him. That and I also sort of agree with assholes being tested." As Daniel said this, Brent nodded along, then sighed.

"This still doesn't tell me why you're here. It can't be just because you found my address in Hoffman's GPS."

Daniel stopped and thought for a moment. Then he looked back to Brent's table and the picture of the man.

"That man. You have Hoffman a picture of his mugshot. I need to know who he is and what he's in prison for." Daniel pointed.

"Oh him? In and out of prison. Name's Miguel Chavez. Guy's been dealing drugs since he was a teenager. Got caught up in some gang wars too and killed a few people." Brent explained.

"Chavez..." Daniel echoed.

"Yeah, why? He was raised by a trashy single mom because his father was never around. Went missing I think actually. Xavier Chavez?" Brent squinted as he thought.

"Oh shit. Xavier... he was one of the guys in the game with me. My father had arrested him and framed him with some shit because he didn't have enough evidence to back up the shit Xavier actually did do."

"Eric Matthews was your dad? Shit man, anything else you want to tell me?" Brent eyed Daniel suspiciously.

"Xavier disappeared because... I killed him."

Brent took a step back in awe, stating at Daniel, so the curly haired male continued.

"I was only like sixteen when I was put in that trap, and with a bunch of criminals. I was only a stupid kid pretending to be a delinquent, I was terrified. Xavier chases me and this other person down and I had to kill him in self defense." The memory rose to the surface of Daniel's mind again as he told the story as vaguely as he could.

"Damn... no wonder Hoffman's working with you, you're badass." Brent murmured.

"Yeah well... I'm sorry I broke in. Kind of a first instinct after working with Hoffman for so long. If you could just not tell him about this, that would be great. Can I... go now?"

Brent shrugged and unloaded his shotgun with a few pumps and shuffles before jerking his head for Daniel to follow him. Brent led him back out into the living room and to the front door.

"Yeah, how about next time, you just knock. At a reasonable hour." Brent added the last part with a bit of edge in his tone, but Daniel saw the slightest upturn of his lips.

"Sorry..." he murmured, ready to see himself out. Yet, with his hand on Brent's doorknob, he paused. "Actually... can I ask you a favor?"

"Hm?" Brent grunted.

"If I paid you like Hoffman but we kept this one to ourselves... could you find someone for me?"


End file.
